I don’t deserve her, and I don’t get to keep her. But I’m going to cherish her and show her how she should be treated by the man in her life for as long as I get that privilege.
text thread
Rose: Will you tell Jovie I have to cancel tonight?
Rose: I’m so sorry
Rose: I’m not feeling well
Rose: I thought I might get better in time for games
Rose: But I’m getting worse
Reed: What can I do?
Rose: Just tell her we’ll do it another night
Reed: Done. What else do you need?
Rose: I’m fine. I’m just trying to sleep it away
Reed: Can I come see you after work?
Rose: You don’t have to do that
Reed: I didn’t say I had to. I want to
Reed: Have you eaten today?
Rose: Not really
Reed: Do you have medicine?
Rose: Somewhere
Reed: Are you staying hydrated?
Rose: Walking hurts
Reed: I’m coming over
22
rose
The doorbell chimeis awfully cheerful when it startles me out of my nap. Doesn’t it know some of us are dying? I shuffle up to a sitting position on the couch. Using superhuman strength, I hobble across the living room, my muscles aching with the effort. My back hurts so much I could cry, but I refuse to add another layer onto the humiliation I’m about to endure.
I shouldn’t have let Reed come over, but I’m weak. Not just in this sad little body that feels like it’s been run over by a flaming garbage truck, but in my heart, too. I didn’t want to be alone. And needy, pathetic woman that I am, I wanted someone to take care of me.
I’ll regret all those weaknesses in thirty seconds. I’ve still got on the pajamas I wore to bed last night, my thin yellow shorts and camisole top smothering me like a wool bodysuit. Might be the fever. I don’t know.
I work the locks, ready to ring the death knell on my relationship with Reed when he sees me. He’ll back away, shirt collar pulled up over his nose so he doesn’t catch my germs, whatever flimsy thread of attraction he might have felt for me snipped away at seeing me ransacked by cooties, makeup-free, and bleary-eyed.
Also, I’m pretty sure I smell.
This is the perfect time to hide in bed with the covers pulled over my head, but I’d probably pass out before I got up the stairs.
Resigned to my fate, I open the door. Naturally, this man looks amazing. Jeans and a T-shirt that caresses his chest the same way my grabby hands want to. And why did he put on his baseball capbackwards? He must hate me. Handsome, sneaky man.
